


A Passion For Ruin

by EntreNous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angst, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-06
Updated: 2009-10-06
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3544817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco and Pansy enjoy each other all the more whenever they choose a third person to enliven their nights.  Still, what they want more than anything is a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Passion For Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> Just uploading this now in 2015 -- I thought I had finished archiving all my old fanfics, but occasionally I'm reminded I've missed a particular favorite like this one. You can find the original posting [here](http://ownficfest.livejournal.com/8275.html).

Draco lounged on the veranda at the Manor, half in a doze and undecided as to whether he wanted to wake up properly or abandon himself fully to sleep. The sun was hazy in the sky, still not having burnt off the morning's dampness, and he had eaten far too many buns at breakfast, which always made him feel dull.  
  
"Wake up, love," someone said in his ear, and he jolted upright.

"You --" he sputtered while Pansy laughed. She set her things down at the table without being invited.  
  
"When did you get here?" Draco snapped. "I didn't expect you until tonight." He smoothed his hair.  
  
"Oh, but this can't wait until tonight." She pretended to swoon onto the divan, taking up more than her fair share of it and forcing him to shift over. "You won't believe who I've found this time."  
  
"Did you say found? You found someone else?" A little tingle went up Draco's spine. "Who is it?"  
  
She frowned. "Just tell you outright? Where's the fun in that?"  
  
"Oh, for the love of --"  
  
"You have no sense of intrigue," she complained. "I'm disappointed in you, Draco, really disappointed."  
  
"Fine," he said coolly. "Don't tell me."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"Just keep it to yourself all day long, and have no one to laugh over it with you."  
  
"It's you who will have no one to --"  
  
"You can show me tonight. Plenty of time."  
  
He rose and turned his back on her, knowing perfectly well she was wringing her hands by now.  
  
"Draco," she started, her voice drawing out the vowel in a petulant yowl.  
  
"Just because I don't want to play your stupid little game?" he asked, facing her with a nasty smile.  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, you'll want to play."  
  
Feigning disinterest despite his heart beating faster, he fell into an empty chair and examined his nails.  
  
Just then his mother glided out.  
  
"Mrs. Malfoy," Pansy simpered. "How lovely to see you again."  
  
"Pansy." She turned to Draco. "Will you accompany your father tonight?"  
  
He shrugged. "There's no point in it."  
  
The look she gave him was weary. "You know it would mean a great deal to him."  
  
"Pansy and I have plans tonight," Draco began.  
  
" _Do_ we?" Pansy asked innocently.  
  
"And besides, the Lord himself doesn't go to the vigils lately," Draco continued.  
  
"What our Lord does or does not do is his own business," his mother lectured. "You, however, should be mindful of our standing."  
  
"Oh, we're fine," Draco muttered.  
  
"Wouldn't you like to rise in the ranks?" Her glance was pointed.  
  
He laughed. "No one's done that in ages."  
  
"Not when the Dark Lord has all the time in the world," Pansy murmured.  
  
His mother shot her an unpleasant look, but Pansy, gazing out at the expanse of green lawn, appeared not to notice.  
  
"I wish you would think about it, Draco. I can't imagine there's anything about your... plans... that are so very important."  
  
Pansy kept her eyes fixed off in the distance, but Draco could see her cheeks flush.  
  
He sighed. "I will, Mother." Of course he intended nothing of the sort.  
  
With a small nod for him, and no farewell for Pansy, she left.  
  
"Your mother doesn't like me anymore."  
  
"Well, to be fair, she never has."  
  
"Still. It's quite rude."  
  
"Never mind that," Draco cut her off. "You were saying?"  
  
She turned her heavy-lidded gaze on him. "I didn't realize you were at all interested. And really, wouldn't you be better off putting in an appearance at the vigil? You might rise to the position of Lord High Grand Junior Assistant to the Assistant to --"  
  
"Oh, fuck it all --"  
  
"Language, Draco," she breathed, looking thrilled to have riled him.  
  
He forced himself to inhale and exhale several times before speaking as slowly as possible. "Are you going to tell me or not?"  
  
"Oh, Draco." She rose and moved toward him, standing with hands on her hips until he sighed and pulled her into his lap. She smiled at him then, curling her fingers into the wisps of hair skimming the back of his neck. "I've found us the most wonderful thing."  
  
Despite himself, he stroked her dark sleek hair and nuzzled her neck. " _What_?"  
  
She leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Draco, love. I've found us a Weasley."  
  
*~*  
  
Draco entered the dingy excuse for a café that night with a prickling of anticipation working through his system.  
  
Pansy and he had arranged to meet instead of arriving together. Now that he looked around at the dour crowd and grim setting, he was glad of it. They would certainly make more of an impact that way, two bright spots amid so much ugliness.  
  
At the host's shrug of permission he took a seat, easing himself into a corner table for the best view. None of the other customers acknowledged him directly, though a few sent sidelong glances at his fine clothing and haughty demeanour, obvious marks of where he stood in their world.  
  
Draco stared them all down, trying not to sigh when they looked away. Far too easy. It always was. Not a single hand twitched toward a wand.  
  
One had to go through so much these days just to find any sort of challenge.  
  
Frowning, he glanced at the clock. Pansy was late, of course, but then so was their quarry. Despite watching the small crowd of witches and wizards grouped around tables and keeping track of the passers-by, Draco hadn't spotted so much as a shock of red hair or a flash of freckles.  
  
He pressed his lips together. It wouldn't do to get impatient, not with the promise of tonight's entertainment. No, far better to take advantage of the time to drink in the ambience. He took a careful look at the others surrounding him.  
  
A couple nearby were bickering, their voices rising until the woman was in tears.  
  
At the opposite end of the room, past a crowd of muttering roughs circled around their pints, two men hunched their shoulders in and gave each other furtive desperate looks.  
  
From the kitchen, there was the sound of a thud, then a dull, hopeless cry of pain.  
  
When the server came round and cast one of the permissible charms for Restricted witches and wizards, a perfunctory spell to clean the table, Draco had to refrain from actually smiling at her. Yes, he felt much refreshed; focusing on the trials of the miserable creatures around him, letting them feed the feeling of rising expectation thrumming through his body.  
  
He scanned the room again even though no one had entered. Close, though, he could feel it.  
  
He hoped it was the girl. If he recalled correctly, she had a way about her in spite of her hideous hair and skin, a promise of how desirable she might be as a woman. And he hadn't had a proper turn in an age.  
  
Just as he began to mope, he straightened. No use acting peevish when they had such a night ahead of them. Besides, it was only more recently that their exploits had played out so unevenly.  
  
It had been easier to divide up the turns when they were after Muggles. Everything was easier with Muggles, in point of fact; the depraved things Draco had been raised to understand about them appeared all too true.  
  
The first time he and Pansy had planned an adventure, both skittish from weeks of joking and fantasizing aloud how it would play out, Draco thought he might have to hand over some of the Muggle currency they had risked obtaining to get what they wanted. But most of the money stayed in his purse that time as well as every time thereafter.  
  
It never took more than spotting a likely candidate and buying him a few drinks. Then Draco would smile confidentially and murmur, "Do you see that woman over there? That's right, the one who came with me, but...how would you like to have her? I would have to be there, of course; she won't do it otherwise. But I'd be off to the side, wouldn't bother you a bit. Look, what we enjoy is our business, but the question is, are you interested? Well, yes, she does like it rough...I don't mind telling you, you might have a hard time keeping up...come, let's go talk to her, shall we?"  
  
Draco had been fascinated to find Pansy's work luring the women was even easier. Often they were gazing at Draco across the room and nodding enthusiastically before Pansy finished pointing and reciting her little speech. Some of them even asked if Pansy would like to join in (very occasionally some of the men did as well, though most seemed quite anxious to verify Draco would be well out of the way).  
  
But readiness for simple debauchery wasn't the only advantage to choosing Muggles. As a child Draco hadn't comprehended how wonderful the development had been. But as an adult he truly appreciated how capably their Lord had rid their law books of the ridiculous statues about hiding magic and not targeting Muggles with spells.  
  
One ought not to kill them very often, of course. That the more torturous hexes and jinxes were reserved for important officials -- reasonable enough.  
  
But it was wonderful what fun he and Pansy could have with basic memory spells or a few Confundus Charms. Their encounters took on the flavour of real quests as they discovered how simple Hover Charms or a Locomotor Mortis could terrify a Muggle man or woman.  
  
All of it was allowed -- at least it seemed so to them on the rare occasions they discussed their circumstances for more than a moment. There was obvious precedent over the last years for the use of a great many spells in times of need. Perhaps their circumstances had more to do with want than need, but Draco felt, and Pansy agreed, that the line separating the two was sometimes very fine.  
  
Really, there was nothing _forbidding_ it exactly, they told each other in breathless voices when they left a hotel room, a Muggle woman still speechless with shock inside, or waltzed off from a Muggle man's flat, laughing as they speculated what sort of impact repeated Obliviates might have on a person.  
  
Just the same, they never spoke of their exploits to others. That tendency toward secrecy likely served them well when they shifted courses.  
  
It began the day Pansy had found him in the Manor's library and asked without so much as a proper greeting, "What would you think of a change in plans?"  
  
Draco had frowned, the book he had been lifting to its shelf still in hand. "What, you don't want to go -- but we've been talking of tonight for over a week."  
  
"I didn't say that! It's only that I'm itching for something new." She glanced around, ascertaining they were alone, and stepped closer. "Aren't you?"  
  
He folded his arms, leaning his hip against his father's grand desk. "What do you propose?"  
  
She came around the desk, perching on it so she could lower her voice further. "Instead of finding a Muggle tonight, let's persuade a witch or wizard to come with us. No one who _matters_ , of course," she added hastily at his expression.  
  
"It would be a risk --"  
  
"But don't you want more of a challenge? And don't you think we might...enjoy it more?" She smiled, her heavy-lidded eyes all enticement.  
  
"It isn't that, but --"  
  
A noise outside in the hall made them both start. But as no one entered the room they relaxed slightly, giving each other nervous smiles.  
  
Really, he had thought at the time, what harm was there in hearing her out?  
  
"I'm listening," he said at last.  
  
Pansy's smile had been even more alluring as she whispered to him about the hovel she had learned of, where rooms were let to Restricted witches and wizards, and where Hannah Abbott worked as a sort of maid.  
  
They found her that evening, an old classmate, a former peer reduced to a pathetic station. Despite their warm greetings, she had been incredibly wary, reacting dubiously to their descent upon her. When she realized what they wished, she reacted with actual disdain. It had been marvellous, how stoutly she had resisted at first, and how she insisted there was nothing they could do or say to convince her.  
  
Much as she might like to have turned them down, however, the offer of so many galleons was eventually something she could not afford to refuse.  
  
They hadn't even pulled out the spells and jinxes of which they had grown so fond with their Muggle companions. They didn't need them. Just the sight of her on the bed in the hotel (Pansy had refused categorically to stay at the boarding house, proclaiming how filthy it was), trying to turn away and shaking when Draco pressed his wand to her throat and told her to be a good girl and mind them -- that was entertainment enough.  
  
Then of course there was the incredible rush of the act itself, Hannah's cheeks wet with tears, the strangled cry she gave when Draco made her come, the approving kiss Pansy gave Draco from where she lay beside them, smiling and reaching out to stroke Hannah's hair as Draco gasped and thrust...  
  
But best of all was that tense moment afterward when Draco patted his pockets with some dismay, explaining he hadn't nearly as many galleons for Hannah as they had promised. Her blue eyes had gone wide with shock, only to take on a dull resignation.  
  
There was nothing she could do to them. Absolutely nothing.  
  
There were others who followed, pursued as soon as Draco and Pansy learnt how to ferret them out (and deemed enough time had passed between adventures so as not to attract too much notice).  
  
A rather attractive girl who had been ahead of them at school -- she had been a Seeker, Draco remembered vaguely, popular and pretty. She gave in when Draco found some former friend of hers who had managed to secure a position at the Ministry, conveniently enough under an acquaintance of Draco's father. Even in the Dark Lord's regime, it wasn't often one found a man so intolerant of those under his supervision hiding prior associations with Restricted wizards and witches. Draco murmured in her ear the entire time how ridiculous he found her, loyal to a man who no doubt had cut off contact with her years before.  
  
Pansy had taken some care to track down a former Quidditch captain for Gryffindor, waving away Draco's taunts over her misguided fascination. He sent them packing twice before they wore him down. They were assured success once they dug around to learn more about his circumstances. It was never hard to find which ones had produced children they seemed foolishly attached to.  
  
And so it went: find a Restricted witch or wizard they had some prior connection to, establish what the person had to lose or gain, and go forward with the tantalizing knowledge that the only ones benefiting from the arrangement were the two of them.  
  
There were, of course, witches who actually worked doing the sort of thing Pansy and Draco sought out, approved and licensed under the new Ministry for just such a purpose.  
  
But where was the challenge in that? Those sorts of witches and wizards wouldn't be nearly as humiliated, nearly as _sullied_ by the proceedings.  
  
No, convincing those who had formerly avoided or looked down upon them as children (or during the first years when foolish wizards still whispered of rebellion): there was where the real sweetness lay. Drawing little cries of pleasure from them even as they tried to look away, making them squirm when what they really wanted was to escape, and twisting the promises they'd been given to make them more ashamed -- wonderful.  
  
There really was very little need for charms and jinxes anymore, not with the ease with which they could remember or learn the weaknesses of their marks, not with the marvellous excitement they felt inflicting damage without so much as a flick of their wrists. Somehow it was more thrilling, mentioning what they might do with one stroke of their wands, but holding back, relishing their fear or delighting in their mortified lust.  
  
It was best when they got both. Like the last time, with a Hufflepuff who had been at school with them. Draco swore he couldn't remember him even when Pansy insisted they had both known him and rattled off salient details to prove it. But really, at that point remembering him wasn't the point. The Hufflepuff recognized Draco with no little unease as soon as they laid eyes on each other, and the flush of excitement Draco felt at that exchange was worth more than anything else.  
  
Though he would say nothing of the sort to Pansy, sometimes Draco thought he could endure a great many mismatches -- far too many men for Pansy, a dearth of women for him -- with the promise of such evident dread and misgiving mingling with erotic hunger.  
  
The boy went with them despite obvious misgivings about Draco's involvement. Pathetic thing: he wasn't taken in by any threat or false enticement, but the foolish yearning for the warmth and meal they had promised him as well as for the offer of Pansy herself. Quite sad.  
  
Many of the Restricted witches they saw looked dreary and defeated. In contrast, Pansy, sweet-scented, glossy-haired, must have seemed a kind of goddess.  
  
Throughout their escapades Draco found it continually enlightening, how Muggles and the wizards reacted to Pansy when she was clearly on offer. It puzzled and intrigued him all the more because he himself felt little to no attraction to her.  
  
How physically cool he felt toward her when alone with her became irrelevant. With another joining them, the dynamic was drastically changed. How utterly desirable those other men found her! It was a revelation Draco was glad to pay witness to. The sound of their grunts and the strain of their muscles sent pulses to his cock and shivers along his spine. Watching her with them made him pant, the way she worked her hips and pulled their arses to make them thrust faster. Seeing how stiff and needy those men were got Draco hard within moments. As he pulled himself off at the bedside or in the corner, teasing his balls with his fingertips and thumbing at the head of his cock, Pansy's eyes would meet his, and they would smile at one another.  
  
Draco had taken particular pleasure in staring at the Hufflepuff boy during, knowing how disquieted it made him from the way he sweated and flinched. It was worth Pansy complaining afterward how the boy hadn't paid her enough attention, worth every stroke Draco had given himself while he watched from the chair beside the bed, getting to drink in the expression of those frightened brown eyes continually darting away from his gaze.  
  
Still, not a woman in several months, and Draco had begun to feel his skin creeping at the lack of it. If it were the girl --  
  
He nearly swore as he recollected one more thing about her. Of course it wouldn't be the girl! How stupid was he not to have remembered? She'd been dead for ages.  
  
Then, at last, Pansy was at the door.  
  
She drew out the moment to its crisis, of course, delaying until she had a number of eyes on her before sashaying inside, a cruel expression on her face as she took off her thick cloak with slow care and displayed her exquisite robes.  
  
Draco rose to greet her; they exchanged kisses, murmured endearments. Some of the other occupants of the room stared; others looked away, perhaps in shame or disgust.  
  
"No sign yet," Draco said in a low voice as she took her seat. He pulled a face. "We're not actually going to have to dine here, are we?"  
  
"Of course not, darling. Trust me."  
  
Her eyes were so bright. Draco shivered, unable to stop himself from leaning forward. He still hadn't the faintest idea which Weasley they would encounter; Pansy kept mum about that much, bless her, despite all his prodding earlier that day. Far more exciting that way, they both understood.  
  
They had waited a while longer when he gave an aggravated sigh and said, "Really, don't you think --"  
  
She put a finger to her lips. "Hush."  
  
There were voices from the kitchen.  
  
"So you haven't _any_ work? Yesterday you said --"  
  
"Today there's nothing. Sorry. You can always try back --"  
  
A man swore.  
  
The kitchen door, which had been swinging quietly while the server worked, opened with a bang.  
  
It was Ron Weasley.  
  
Draco's eyes widened. This was better than the girl. He slid his hand up Pansy's thigh and squeezed.  
  
"Oh, Weasley," Pansy called sweetly as he made his way over to the door. A number of people had shifted to watch him by now.  
  
He turned, eyes narrowed. When he saw who was calling his name, he snorted.  
  
Draco cast a glance at Pansy to see if she had noticed. But she was too busy starting in.  
  
"Weasley, we couldn't help but overhear -- bad bit of luck, that! It can be so hard for some wizards to find work these days." She coughed delicately. "This sort of thing always troubles us, seeing a schoolmate go through difficult times. If there were only something we could do for you." Her eyes glittered as she smiled. "Actually…Draco and I were just deciding to go elsewhere. The clientele here is a bit…" She waved a hand dismissively. "Anyway, you look as if you could use a good meal. If you'd like to join us --" She trailed off.  
  
Ron leaned on their table on both hands, his knuckles bracing his weight. Draco had to close his parted lips as he gazed upward. He had forgotten how tall Ron was.  
  
He stared at them with contempt. After a pause, he straightened. "Not here."  
  
This time Pansy looked when Draco tried to catch their eye. Well, now. That was unusual. Most of the wizards they approached refused to talk to them outright. The others took the opposite tack: far too polite, letting them go through their little scripts and growing more and more shocked before attempting to ease away from them.  
  
Ron was out the door before they could get to their feet, leaving them scrambling after him.  
  
"The restaurant is just down the opposite way --" Pansy panted as they caught up to him already walking down the block.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere you two have already chosen," Ron said shortly. "I have a room. It's clean. Take it or leave it."  
  
Pansy tugged on Draco's sleeve, but he shook her off. No, they didn't have time to consult, not with Ron walking away so fast. It had not slipped Draco's attention that Ron not only hadn't refused them, but appeared to have some idea what they were after. Draco hurried to match Ron's long strides, ignoring the apprehension on Pansy's face.  
  
"Perhaps some other time," Pansy began, and Draco gripped her arm so hard that she yelped. The idea, giving up just when they were following the man to his room! Granted, they didn't agree to do something like that, well, _ever_.  
  
But the way he'd looked at them -- the way he'd walked off -- Draco could not let him get away.  
  
"This is not a good idea," Pansy hissed in his ear as Ron rounded the corner. "I know I was the one to find him, but now I can't help but think --"  
  
Draco laughed. "What can he do to us? You know as well as I that if he tried anything, anything at all --"  
  
"Coming?" Ron had stopped at a doorway. He lived at the back of an alley, a twisted dark corner, a dirty building.  
  
There was a flicker at a window a few storeys above, a curtain drawn back an inch. It fell again quickly.  
  
"You know you want to see what he's capable of," Draco murmured. "Admit it; you do. You won't be alone. I'll be right there the entire time, right by your side, watching."  
  
Pansy hesitated a moment longer, but when she cast her eyes over Ron's long lean body she shivered. "All right."  
  
She hadn't finished saying the words when Draco followed in Ron's wake.  
  
They entered a small dim room on the ground floor, a small high window the only source of light. At first glance Draco could see it actually was reasonably clean. Even the mattress shifted into the corner on the floor appeared neat.  
  
Draco smiled as he ran a gloved finger over a cheap little table and drew it away unblemished. Trust a Weasley to know all sorts of housekeeping spells. Lucky for him those were allowed him or the area would no doubt have looked a damn sight worse.  
  
Pansy sniffed as she joined them, but had no immediate objections to voice. Ron stood watching silently, his back to a tall worn wardrobe propped against the wall. For a beat, none of them said anything.  
  
"We'll pay you, of course," Pansy blurted.  
  
"Will you, now?" Ron raised fiery red brows.  
  
Pansy swallowed. "Well, I mean, you haven't heard yet --"  
  
"What, one of you likes to watch while the other gets fucked?" Ron shrugged. "The only thing I can't tell yet is which of you wants which."  
  
"Don't be stupid," Pansy said hotly. "Draco is just -- he'll _watch_ , of course."  
  
Ron flicked his eyes to Draco. They were intensely blue, and Draco found his lips parting once more.  
  
"You may take your clothes off now," Pansy said stiffly.  
  
"Oh, _may_ I?" Ron laughed -- actually _laughed_ \-- and Draco could see Pansy tense. "What about the money?"  
  
She scowled. "After, we'll give you --"  
  
"Oh, no. You brought it up, you'll pay before. Otherwise you'll get fuck all in return."  
  
"You've obviously done this before," Pansy spat.  
  
Ron looked straight ahead, clear-eyed, obviously not intending to answer. Though he had been speaking to Pansy, he shifted his gaze over to Draco. "How badly do you want this to happen?"  
  
"We won't pay you first--"  
  
"Seven galleons," Draco murmured.  
  
Pansy sent Draco a resentful look.  
  
"Twelve."  
  
"I won't go higher than nine."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Give it here."  
  
Draco wavered, obviously visible because Ron sighed.  
  
"I'm not going to rob you of your last knut, if that's what you're worried about."  
  
"You wouldn't dare," Draco shot back, but opened his purse with trembling hands. Really, this was the most exciting encounter they had had in ages. His heart was pounding fit to burst out of his chest.  
  
He held the coins out, and when Ron took them, his fingertips scratched lightly along Draco's gloved palm. When Draco narrowed his eyes, Ron looked back, his expression calm.  
  
"Now that's settled." Pansy undid her cloak briskly. When it became apparent that Ron wasn't going to take it from her she sighed and draped it over a rickety chair.  
  
Draco threw his cloak over hers and pulled off first one glove then the other. He faltered when he eased his collar loose, but after giving the chair a cursory glance he shrugged and lowered himself to the floor.  
  
Pansy had just started on her robe's buttons when Ron stepped up to her, pushed her hands away.  
  
"I can do it myself --"  
  
He made no reply, just thumbed the buttons out with one hand, while with the other he reached inside --  
  
Pansy breathed in sharply. "Oh," she mouthed. She stirred at his touch, pushing her tits forward.  
  
"Nothing underneath, then?" Ron had undone the buttons already, and he pushed Pansy's robe off her shoulders.  
  
Pansy shot Draco a look. Many of their thirds were hesitant, typically waiting for instruction. But Ron just leaned over her, mouthing along her white neck as he massaged her breasts.  
  
"I don't--" Pansy began.  
  
Draco bit his tongue so he wouldn't tell her to shut it. He wanted to see what was going to happen.  
  
"Shh." Ron moved forward, leading her up until her back was pushed to the wall.  
  
She hadn't put on a bra, but she had worn little black lacy panties, a pair that likely cost more than Ron Weasley could scrounge in six months of odd jobs. Draco held his breath as he flicked the top button of his trousers, waiting to see if Ron would just rip the panties off. He seemed the type. They would probably make a wrenching sound, might even hurt her pulling away. But Ron wouldn't care in the least, would just shred them to bits to get to her faster.  
  
But instead Ron reached down, fingering her over the material, taking his time about it. He was so tall that Draco couldn't see every motion, couldn't see much of Pansy. What's more, he couldn't watch Ron's expression, view him shying away from Draco's glance or surveying Pansy with wary readiness -- if indeed he was doing either of those things.  
  
But he could see, after Ron reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head, the smattering of freckles shifting over Ron's shoulder blades and muscles. He could see the shadows Ron's left arm and hand, extended to press against the wall above Pansy's head, made against her profile and bare chest. And he could see the steady sure motions of Ron's arm, forward and back as his fingertips fondled the lace and silk slowly.  
  
"Take them off," she moaned after a few moments had passed. Only Pansy could manage to sound demanding, resentful, and lustful all at once.  
  
"Not yet."  
  
Draco had to shift forward on to his knees to see. But yes, there was Ron slipping two fingers inside, easing them under the fabric with the panties still on, and keeping the heel of his palm pressed against her covered pussy.  
  
Pansy bucked against him, rubbing with frantic juts of her hips. She made a little protesting sound, and Draco saw she had been forced to stand on her toes to keep the pressure and angle she wanted.  
  
A little closer couldn't hurt, couldn't hurt at all. Draco undid the next two buttons on his trousers and eased forward, first one knee then the other, shuffling ahead slightly before stopping and sitting back on his heels.  
  
Usually he sat in the corner in a chair, or beside the bed on a lounge, his gaze level with the action. But now he was looking up as Pansy pulled down Ron's threadbare trousers with a jerky frantic motion.  
  
Just as Pansy's hips were circling in pattern and her hands were twining around Ron's neck, Ron lifted her, using the wall to support the pressure, and arranging her legs around his middle.  
  
She clenched her legs behind his back with her ankles crossed, laughing. "Right here?" When Ron swore and finally yanked her panties off, wrangling them from their tangle of bodies before tossing them over his shoulder, she shrieked in delight.  
  
It was going all wrong -- they hadn't threatened Ron's family or told him he'd never find work again. They had already given him galleons, and hadn't really made him ask for any. They weren't even taunting him with spells they could cast, spells he was absolutely forbidden. But Draco could not remember their encounters ever being anything as charged as this.  
  
"Yeah, right here. You thought I was going to have you on the mattress, let you get on top and control it all?"  
  
Pansy made a whining noise.  
  
"Bet you're used to that. But no, that's not what's happening tonight. I'm going to fuck you against the wall, make you ride up and down on my cock. You'll have to hold on so you won't fall, trust me to keep you upright, won't you? Would you like that? Feeling my cock pushing you, driving you hard, sensing how close you are to dropping down at any moment if you don't cling and scratch to stay up?"  
  
Pansy's huffing little whimpers betrayed how much she liked that idea. "You won't drop me," was all she said.  
  
A little closer, Draco thought, his fingers already curling around his cock, just holding for the moment. He tried to be silent as he moved near.  
  
Pansy had just gotten Ron's trousers to hit the floor when Draco stopped. Her gasp made Draco crane his neck to view what was happening. Fuck, Ron was thick, long as well, and hard enough to drive nails. Absently, Draco began to move his hand over his prick, working up a rhythm.  
  
Strong too, Ron must have been strong, because he had only one hand cupping Pansy's arse while the other teased her breast, flicking and pinching her nipple. He rubbed his cock head against her groin, murmuring as she squirmed.  
  
"Get on with it!" Pansy demanded.  
  
Both Pansy and Draco cried out as Ron shoved in her all at once, Pansy's wail full and lusty, Draco's sob almost inaudible.  
  
"Oh, oh god, oh god," she hissed. "Fuck, yes, fuck me! Draco, love, oh _fuck_ , can you see?" She had her arms wrapped around Ron's broad shoulders tight, holding fast, and she peeked over to catch Draco's eye as Ron's thrusts pushed her up into sight.  
  
"Yes," Draco whispered. "Yes, yes."  
  
Her head smacked the wall when she tossed it back unthinkingly. But they soon got into a tempo, grunting and panting as Ron's lean hips and arse thrust and thrust and thrust.  
  
Draco couldn't see her properly, couldn't view Pansy's expression or the wetness on her thighs. But as he shifted to fondle his balls and slide his fingers behind them, he realized he hadn't truly been trying, had been too busy focusing on the small of Ron's back as it curved, on the dimples above his arse as his cheeks clenched.  
  
He had to let go of his cock, take his hands out of his trousers entirely as he tried once again to get closer. No way around it, really, because he shook and toppled forward, forced onto his hands and knees to stay partially upright.  
  
But the compulsion that had shot all of a sudden through his system couldn't be ignored. So he crawled until he was practically on top of them, close enough that he could reach out with a shaking hand and brush his fingertips over Ron's arse.  
  
Pansy cried out, but when Draco gazed up, he could see her eyes were shut. She hadn't seen anything.  
  
When Ron glanced over his shoulder, cast his gaze down, Draco moved as if to snatch his hand away. All the blood that wasn't swelling his cock went to flame at his cheeks.  
  
Then Ron stepped out, moving his legs further apart. He kept on shoving forward and back, but as he pulled away from Pansy at the end of every stroke, he tipped his arse up.  
  
Draco's fingers slipped along the tight rounds of Ron's arse cheeks to the divide between.  
  
The plaster of the wall creaked as though it might crack from Pansy's weight, but Draco only heard it, couldn't see more than flashes of Pansy now -- the red of her nipple between Ron's fingers, the pink of her nails digging into Ron's back, the odd flex of her foot as she dug her heel against Ron's back to pull herself up.  
  
Every time Ron plunged into Pansy, Draco's fingers brushed near or over that tiny opening, until he was rubbing his thumb around it, massaging in rhythm to Ron's thrusts. Draco kept his eyes trained on those flexing muscles, kept his mind focused on the feel of squeezing and clenching --  
  
"Oh yes," Pansy gasped out. Draco looked up, eyes wide, as Pansy humped against Ron.  
  
When Ron stiffened, the very tip of Draco's finger slid inside him. Draco closed his eyes at the feel of the tremors working their way through Ron's body then down along his finger and hand.  
  
He drew back his hand reluctantly, caressing the curve of Ron's arse and the muscles in his thigh before pulling away entirely.  
  
Then Pansy's eyes met his. She shifted her weight, and for a moment Draco thought she was going to ease herself down.  
  
But instead she curled her fingers into Ron's hair, pulled him close and kissed him. She didn't close her eyes, just kept her gaze fixed on Draco, a curve to the edges of her lips as she slid her mouth over Ron's.  
  
Draco made a small noise and almost as an afterthought squeezed around the base of his cock. He hadn't come. Now he wasn't certain he wanted to.  
  
When Ron set Pansy down, she smiled at him, a toothy predatory grin. Draco couldn't view Ron's expression, but he seemingly ignored her, leaning her against the wall like an effigy that wouldn't hold its position upright before he turned away.  
  
Draco swayed on his knees, clutching himself with his trousers bunched around his ankles, when Ron took a step in his direction. His mouth went dry -- he wanted nothing more than to scramble away, but with the material tangling him he worried he would land on his arse like an utter fool.  
  
Ron's blue eyes were expressionless when he glanced at him. Then, instead of coming toward Draco, he headed to what looked like a small closet in the corner. He went in, shutting the door behind him.  
  
The sounds of splashing and washing as from a basin rather than a bath -- Draco hadn't heard running water -- drifted out. Draco breathed hard and tried not to think about what the hell he had just done.  
  
"You were right, you know," Pansy murmured.  
  
His gaze snapped to her.  
  
She stroked her hands over her flushed skin and sighed. "I did want to see what he could do. And oh, it was well worth it." She scanned the floor before crouching to pick up her panties, unconcerned with Draco watching her. Once she had those on and her robe over her shoulders, she looked at him again. Her eyes widened slightly.  
  
"Oh." Draco cleared his throat before putting his own garments to rights.  
  
"Should we wait, see if he's up for another go?" Pansy pursed her lips and paused in her button fastening. "I wouldn't mind, that's for certain." She laughed. "Looks like you wouldn't, either. Well, you know I don't like repeats, but really, with that one --"  
  
"We should leave," Draco said. His voice was hoarse. When he stood he stumbled slightly, though he thought he corrected himself before she saw.  
  
"Well, yes. But should we --" Pansy gestured toward the nine galleons piled neatly on the table. She pulled her cloak to her with a snap and grinned at Draco. "We aren't really going to leave those for him, are we?"  
  
Something about the hungry cast of her expression made him feel ill. "Let's just get out of here." He grabbed her hand, ignoring the start of her protest, and pulled her toward the door.  
  
*~*  
  
"Wake up, love."  
  
Draco opened his eyes, jerking his head up.  
  
"Mother," he mumbled with relief once he saw who hovered over him.  
  
"Are you all right?" She felt his forehead.  
  
He shrugged off her touch. "Of course."  
  
"You returned so late last night. Even your father came home earlier, and you know how long those vigils last."  
  
Draco shook his head, trying to clear it. After seeing Pansy home he had walked away from the Parkinson's mansion and kept walking, his mind blank, for god knew how long. He found himself some time later tramping along an unmarked muddy lane in Wiltshire with nothing but the whine of insects accompanying him.  
  
Once he had come to his senses and Apparated home, he had undressed in a daze and fallen into bed. After a few wakeful hours of shifting his sore limbs to first one position then another, he had returned downstairs to lie listlessly on the lounge.  
  
"You know I worry about you," she continued.  
  
"There's no point in it," he said under his breath. "There's nothing they can do to us," he said, louder.  
  
She gazed at him, confusion playing on her features. "Whatever do you mean, darling?"  
  
He stood up all at once and had to hold the side of the lounge for support as he swayed. "Just a bit tired," he said softly by way of explanation.  
  
"I wish you would meet someone," she said after a pause.  
  
"I have Pansy," he said in a dull voice. It was a familiar exchange.  
  
"Someone who means something to you," she clarified.  
  
An odd thought occurred to him, the memory of Pansy kissing Ron, her eyes open and bright as she stared. He brought his hand from the lounge to cover his mouth. "Is she here?"  
  
Now his mother looked baffled. "Who?"  
  
"Pansy." He forced himself to relax his hands at his sides. "Is she here?"  
  
"She stopped by earlier unannounced, as she does far too often. But I of course told her you were sleeping and weren't to be disturbed. Why --"  
  
"What's the time?"  
  
As he paced forward in search of a clock or perhaps his father's pocket watch, she gestured at the twilight outside. "You've slept the day away," she told him, her voice a mix of reproach and fondness.  
  
"It's evening already?" That stopped him in his tracks.  
  
"Yes, though I hardly see how that matters --"  
  
"I've something I have to do. Someone I have to see."  
  
"Who? Not Pansy -- you just saw her yesterday, didn't you? Draco?"  
  
He fled the room, her questions hanging in the air behind him.  
  
It was quick enough work to change his clothing, and quicker still to make his way to the point on the grounds where he could Apparate.  
  
From there it was but a moment before he appeared at the dark little corner he had visited with Pansy last night.  
  
He pushed at the front door, finding it unlocked. When he arrived at the doorway to Ron's small room, he pointed his wand. "Alohomora!"  
  
Ron met him at the threshold with a fierce expression on his face. "Some people knock, you know. What did you think, that nine galleons bought you the right to --"  
  
"I didn't, didn't think," Draco panted. He hadn't realized he was out of breath until he spoke.  
  
Ron glanced up and down the hall. "Get in," he muttered.  
  
Draco stumbled past him.  
  
After closing and locking the door, Ron leaned against it, scrutinizing Draco. His eyes flashed, but he said nothing.  
  
Draco shifted from foot to foot, unable to stop himself from the nervous motion. He was acutely conscious of the fact that he had left the Manor without gloves, without having smoothed his hair.  
  
"It was a mistake. I shouldn't have come," he said hastily.  
  
But Ron showed no signs of moving to let him out.  
  
Draco's fingers twitched. He badly wanted his wand in his hand, but Ron did have a few spells at his own disposal, and -- lord, how forbidden _were_ those spells that Restricted wizards weren't allowed? Draco had a vague idea their wands were rigged so as not to permit particular charms and curses. If that were the case, though, no one would ever receive punishment, and people were punished; people disappeared.  
  
How did it work? His mind flitted from this answer to that as Ron continued to watch him. Perhaps they got a shock, or Ministry officials were alerted? But in truth he had no idea precisely what would happen. He had never had to wonder.  
  
"What do you --" Ron finally asked at the same time Draco exclaimed, "Has she been here?" Draco's eyes flicked to the wall where yesterday Ron and Pansy had fucked.  
  
"Jealous?" Ron's expression darkened. "I'm not in the least interested in the little games you play with one another, but mind that _you_ two were the ones that wanted --"  
  
"I'm not jealous of her!" Draco snapped his mouth closed, aware of how unnerved he sounded.  
  
"Not..." Ron stared him down. Draco had never thought of Ron as particularly smart for the two years they were at school together, but there was a cool calculation in his features now.  
  
"Ah," Ron said at last. His eyes narrowed as he looked Draco over. "Like that, is it?"  
  
Draco sputtered. "What are you talking about?" He hadn't thought this through at all, and now he was completely out of control of the conversation. His whole body trembled, and he took a step back even though that only brought him further into the room where the only means of escape was that ridiculously tiny window high up on the wall. "I only meant -- the galleons --" The word brought back a hazy purpose to his mind -- that was it, wasn't it? Pansy had made as if to take the money back, and Draco hadn't wanted to for some reason.  
  
But she hadn't taken it -- Draco had made her leave first -- but Draco couldn't know that for certain, because she might have returned, after all, and Ron couldn't return every kind of spell now, could he? Not to mention the way she had _kissed_ him, the way she laughed about repeats, and they _never_ did either of those things; not that they agreed explicitly, but it was fixed that way all the same.  
  
Ron stepped forward. Draco froze.  
  
"Couldn't get it out of your mind, could you?" Ron murmured. If his eyes had flashed before, they were positively blazing now.  
  
"I don't know what you're --"  
  
"When I asked which of you I was to fuck...you haven't been able to stop thinking of it, and now --"  
  
"No!" Draco blurted, alarmed. Ron was so close -- Draco reached for his wand --  
  
"Stupid --" Ron sprang forward, and there was nowhere for Draco to go but back, smashing against the wall.  
  
When Ron's mouth covered his, he whimpered even as he slammed his fist against Ron's shoulder. The kiss was all hardness and biting, and Draco moaned, tilting his head back.  
  
The images of yesterday, especially Pansy on her tiptoes, played on the backs of his eyelids before he realized he had closed his eyes, before he realized he was surging forward to jerk their bodies closer.  
  
Dimly he heard his wand clattering to the floor. Part of him hadn't realized he'd still been holding it.  
  
"Going to behave?" Ron asked in a soft voice, pulling back slightly.  
  
Draco gritted his teeth.  
  
Ron caught Draco's fist before it had a chance to make contact with his face, and twisted it behind Draco's back. "Guess not."  
  
"You're hurting me," Draco spat.  
  
His only reply was a snort. Ron yanked Draco's cloak down partway, then pulled hard at Draco's waistcoat and shirt. The buttons flew off in all directions, and Draco made an incoherent objection.  
  
"I'm going to fuck you," Ron whispered in his ear.  
  
Draco stilled, fingers curling around and digging into Ron's left shoulder.  
  
"That's what you came for." His breath was hot on Draco's ear. He licked Draco's earlobe then bit it.  
  
"No, I --"  
  
Ron reached down to undo Draco's trousers. "Couldn't stand watching me give it to her, wishing the whole time you were in her place."  
  
"Fuck --" Draco arched his neck, moaning when Ron's teeth connected with it.  
  
"No, not exactly her place," Ron whispered in his ear. He pulled down his own trousers and pants with a rough motion, bumping sharply into Draco as he kicked off clothes and shoes. "You wanted it on your knees, didn't you?"  
  
Instead of shouting in indignation and diving for his wand as he ought, Draco rushed to tug Ron's shirt over his head, scratching his arms up in the process.  
  
"Fucking wildcat," Ron muttered, but he threw his undershirt to the side.  
  
Draco started pushing off his own trousers, gasping when Ron reached to grab the material as well and thumbed over Draco's cock head.  
  
How he managed to get his shoes and socks off he wasn't certain, because Ron's lips were on his again, and oh fuck, Draco had never kissed anyone like this before, _been_ kissed like this before. His knees buckled, and dimly he heard his own needy sounds with a mixture of shame and excitement. Ron's cock pressed hard and hot against his abdomen, and Draco groaned, trying to grind his stiff prick against Ron's muscular thigh. His hands moved frenetically over Ron's chest, grasping and rubbing, wild at the contact with warm flesh.  
  
When Ron slid both hands down to grasp and massage his arse, Draco swayed violently. Ron grabbed him and they pitched to the side, landing hard on the bottom edge of the mattress.  
  
For a second Draco lay there panting.  
  
"Come on," Ron muttered, reaching for him.  
  
He voiced no objection as Ron flipped him over, hoisted him up on all fours -- it happened so quickly, really, there was nothing he could have said. For soon enough Ron was draped over him, cock nestled against Draco's arse. Draco cried out at the touch and arched his back shamelessly, feeling like some whore who worked the streets.  
  
A few words of a mumbled spell reached his ears. Draco's mind fogged -- he couldn't tell whether Ron had summoned something or conjured it, but he didn't care.  
  
What mattered were the slick fingers stroking and entering him, what mattered was the desperate sound Ron made as at last he lined his cock up, what mattered were the twin wild cries that tore through their throats as Ron rode forward, shunting Draco's face and chest flat against the mattress while his rump tipped up.  
  
"Hurt?" Ron managed. He held still. Draco could feel his legs shaking with the effort.  
  
"Go, go on," Draco gasped out, his words muffled by the mattress. It hurt like hell in the first seconds, yes, but the feel of Ron filling him near to splitting made him stretch and bend for more.  
  
"Fuck, you look good like that," Ron grunted. He slid the heel of his hand, pressing down hard, along Draco's spine until his fingers were threaded in Draco's hair, holding him firm. "So tight around me, Christ -- fuck, you want it bad, isn't that right? Look at you working those hips back -- that's right, take it all, you like feeling me inside, don't you?"  
  
Draco couldn't answer, just scrabbled at the bed's surface so he could find enough leverage to spread his knees wider. His toes curled and braced against the mattress.  
  
Ron swore and as he thrust twisted his hips as though zeroing in on something.  
  
Draco mouth formed a silent "Oh!" when Ron found it. "Yes, yes," he breathed senselessly as Ron pushed into him again and again.  
  
Ron panted against his back, leaning his sweaty forehead against it as he kept his hips in motion. Draco shivered, but he actually bucked and shouted hoarsely when Ron wrapped his left arm around Draco's chest and sought out his cock with his right hand.  
  
They moved in counterpoint, Ron fucking forward while Draco jerked back, Ron pulling away while Draco squirmed ahead. Ron spanned his fingers over Draco's chest, pressing and rubbing sometimes one, sometimes both nipples.  
  
On instinct Draco looked up, but there was no one there to see, no one but them. He shoved back harder, letting his eyes fall shut, breathing the scents of sweat and musk in deeply.  
  
"Can't -- hang on," Ron whispered.  
  
Draco clawed at the air for a second as Ron levered him up and back to sit on his cock.  
  
If Ron's thrusts and strokes were hard before, now they went at a frenzied pace. Draco twisted, getting his right arm behind Ron's head, pulling his head down to smash their mouths together.  
  
"So hot for it," Ron whispered against his lips when Draco wrenched away to gulp for air. He bit Draco's neck until he turned his mouth back, sucked Draco's tongue as he freed a hand to wrap again around Draco's cock.  
  
"Fuck, oh, please," Draco wailed. His head lolled back against Ron's shoulder as he urged Ron, squeezing his thick thigh and struggling to lift and drop himself ever faster.  
  
When he came he cried out silently, huffing and shuddering through the spasms, through the feel of Ron pulsing inside him.  
  
They slumped forward.  
  
Draco turned his face to press his cheek against the mattress. He didn't realize there were tears on his cheeks until rough fingertips brushed them away.  
  
"That was --" He left it, unsure what to say exactly.  
  
Ron kissed the back of his neck, stroking his warm hands along Draco's sides, smoothing out the shivers and the sweat.  
  
For the first time after anything like this, Draco sneaked his hand out in the open, within reach.  
  
When Ron twined their fingers together and licked a drop of sweat from his neck, Draco let his eyes drift closed.  
  
*~*  
  
The next morning found Draco on the veranda once more, stretching luxuriously in the day's bright sun.  
  
"You look well," his mother had commented when they breakfasted together.  
  
"Hmm." He shifted where he sat, ducking his head to hide the rush of blood to his cheeks. He was sore, but he hadn't wanted to take a potion. It was enough work sneaking in so she wouldn't realize how much later he returned last night, never mind filching something from her store of remedies. He didn't mind much; the ache was rather pleasant, really.  
  
She had quizzed him for a time about his abrupt departure and ensuing activities, but finding him offering up no more than vague replies, she grew frustrated and left in search of his father.  
  
He much preferred being alone just now anyway. He eased onto his side and gave a contented sigh. Alone he could laugh aloud at the memory of the way he had struck out at Ron instead of giving in right away, how they had tumbled and tangled together. Ridiculous, really, how much he had -- was it ridiculous that he had enjoyed it so much? Or that he had waited so long?  
  
It was better that he had waited, he thought as his lips curled up into a smile. None of those leering Muggle men or frightened Hogwarts boys for him. Ron had woken him in the middle of the night, easing him onto his back and sucking on his nipples and belly until Draco had pulled his own legs to his chest with trembling hands. Why not, when no one could watch him with resentful eyes or comment how readily he offered himself?  
  
Someone of his own status, well, who knew how they might use the information. Ron held no standing in their world, though, no cache to use such information against him. More to the point, Ron clearly enjoyed it as much as Draco, telling him with hands and tongue and whispers of filthy promises exactly how much.  
  
He let his fingertips drift to his neck, to the mark Ron's teeth had made.  
  
"There is being an owl for you, sir," a house elf said in a reedy voice.  
  
Draco opened his eyes, slitting them at the burn of the rising sun. It might have been minutes or hours later, but it was of no consequence, really. He took the offered parchment and unfurled it.  
  


> _Draco, love,  
>  Won't be able to see you today, and so writing to say I do hope you've recovered sufficiently. Your mother was quite adamant I not see you yesterday. Really, you would think I were a stranger instead of one of your oldest and dearest friends! I shall call for you tomorrow. Until then --  
>  Pansy_

  
He frowned before shrugging it off. Pansy rarely sent word she wouldn't come round but perhaps she had well and truly had it with his mother's snubs. Or, more likely, she was hinting to Draco he ought to make up to her for his mother's coldness.

Really, did Pansy's reasons matter in the slightest? Draco didn't wish to see anyone that day, wanted only to laze about and play yesterday's scenes through his head.

He yawned when he finally decided to sit up, swinging his legs over the chaise. The sun hung low in the sky -- late afternoon then.

Though he had already bathed, he decided to do so again in anticipation of the coming night. With no chance of Pansy arriving, he was certainly free to call at Ron's.

When he had mentioned how he might perhaps stop by the next night, Ron had muttered something about looking for work. Draco had laughed at that idea and told him not to be idiotic. Clearly there was little work to be had if Ron's failure the other day and general circumstances were any indication. Why waste time seeking work when there were far more interesting things to do?

Besides, Draco murmured, rubbing his cheek against Ron's shoulder blade, he supposed he might be able to slip Ron some sickles on occasion, bring by various things he didn't himself need, put in a word for Ron once in a while for this or that short-term position.

"I can't make much of a life on supposes," Ron had finally said.

"No, I suppose not." Draco laughed again. He thought of making a firmer promise, but held his tongue. This wasn't any sort of -- well, whatever it was, it had just begun, and he saw no need to entangle himself unless he chose. "Take this for now, then," he said instead, laying two galleons on Ron's table.

"What is that, payment?" Ron's blue eyes searched his.

"No. I mean, we didn't --" Draco had laughed anxiously.

"I didn't ask for them."

"Just take them."

Ron picked up the heavy coin, turning it over in his palm. Not a promise exactly, but a manner of assuring Ron would await him that night.

Ron had still been looking at the money when Draco attired himself and departed.

*~*

Draco debated whether to bring the makings of an easy meal along with him. If he did, he would make sure to mention casually how he hadn't time to eat, and how it was easy enough to acquire adequate amounts for two.

It seemed imprudent to follow so closely on yesterday's offering, though. Even if Draco intended (as long as he continued to enjoy himself) to ensure Ron got by all right, he didn't like the idea of dealing with awkward expectations.

The front door was once again unlocked, and Draco pushed in. He strode toward Ron's door, far better prepared than the day before. His suit was quite fine, his appearance generally polished, and he had any number of phrases and speeches ready for various contingencies.

What he was not prepared for was to find the door ajar, and the room stripped bare of its meagre furnishings.

He paused, his heart thumping in his chest. There was nothing to do but push the door all the way open, stepping inside to the hollow sounds of an empty space.

"Hello, love."

He pressed his lips together. "Pansy," he said stiffly. It was she who had spoken, paused in the corner as though she had just returned from examining the tiny water closet.

She gazed at him evenly then glanced around, wrinkling her nose. "Dreadfully tiny place, really. It somehow looks even smaller with nothing in it."

"Hmm." He adjusted his cuffs so he could conceal the slight flush to his cheeks. Damned if he would be the one to --

"Still, with a coat of paint, a few chairs, it wouldn't make a half-bad sitting area. As an entire flat, of course, it's ridiculous. Did I ever tell you about my cousin Larch, who owned the most _minuscule_ cottage in --"

He sighed. "Must we?"

She pivoted away from the tiny window. "Whatever do you mean, Draco?"

Trust her to keep her cards close far longer than he would have the patience for. "What are you doing here?" he bit out.

"You know, I might ask the same question of you."

He kept silent.

She walked the perimeter of the room, the heels of her sleek boots clacking against the wood floor while she continued her ruse of surveying the space.

"He really was quite something, wasn't he?" Her eyes glittered when she glanced at him. "Shame."

It was with some effort that Draco swallowed. "Shame?" he returned.

"That he's gone, of course."

 _Gone_. It echoed around them.

He did his best to keep his expression calm, even going so far as to raise an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't care for repeats, anyway."

"It's a question of that, do you think?" she asked softly.

"Well, what other reason would you have to come here, on your own no less?" He twisted his lips into an attempt at a knowing smile.

She tittered, clicking closer to him. "Oh, Draco." She smiled as she tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear then leaned in to whisper, "What other reason would _you_ have to come here on your own, hmm? Other than to beg Ron Wesley to fuck you?"

He shoved her hard, but she was quick on her feet, skittering across the wood for only seconds before she stood straight again. The look she gave him as she straightened her robes was one of fierce triumph.

Did she know? Had she guessed? Had he confessed it all without a word?

"Don't be stupid," he exclaimed. "Now tell me you've done.

"Dear god -- what have _I_ done -- Draco, you can't actually--" She smiled widely. "Oh my god, this is priceless. Just imagining--" She laughed, a horrid shriek of a laugh.

"Come out and say it already," he shot back. "You know where he is?"

"Do I? Don't I?" She tapped her bottom lip with her finger. "Let's think."

"Pansy --"

"What do you care?" she shouted suddenly. "He's not supposed to matter! _We_ matter, Draco."

"You don't know where he is either," he said slowly. He wasn't certain of it, but he realized at the odd flutter in his chest that it was as likely as the opposite scenario.

She veered away when he took a step further. "Is that what you think of me? Do you really think I would come panting around here after a Weasley? No, don't touch me!" she shrieked when he moved nearer.

"I don't know what you might do," he answered softly.

"If that's the case, I can't imagine what we have to say to one another right now." Her eyes were as bright as he'd ever seen them.

"I suppose not," Draco muttered.

She stalked past him, knocking his arm back with a push of her slim frame.

"Oh, Draco, there was one thing." She glanced over her shoulder, nodding up at the wall.

Draco turned. Just there, resting on the sill of the tiny window: two galleons.

He waited until Pansy's footsteps had faded away to walk toward them.


End file.
